


Jedi June

by Bittodeath



Series: Deliver Us AU [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Clone Wars, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gen, Jedi, Jedi Code (Star Wars), Jedi Finn (Star Wars), Lightsabers, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Meditation, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reflection, Slavery, The Dark Side of the Force, The Force, Zygerria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24569179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath
Summary: A collection of ficlets for #JediJune, as follows:1 - Compassion (Runi - Deliver Us)2 - Lightsaber (Tracyn - Deliver Us)3 - Teaching/Learning (Anakin Skywalker & Sors Bandeam - Redemption)4 - The Force (Haat - Deliver Us)5 - Restraint/Discipline (Skira - Deliver Us)6 - Meditation/Mindfulness (Jedi!Finn - Switched Fates)7 - Symbiosis/Connection (Naak - Deliver Us)8 - Letting Go (Anakin Skywalker - Redemption)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader & Sors Bandeam, Finn & Plo Koon
Series: Deliver Us AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814314
Comments: 13
Kudos: 156





	1. Compassion : Runi (Deliver Us)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Deliver Us](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23910154) by [Bittodeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath). 
  * Inspired by [Redemption](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632578) by [Bittodeath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittodeath/pseuds/Bittodeath). 



> I wrote these ficlets for Jedi June. Each chapter is for one of the days/prompts. You don't need to have read the fics in which the characters appear, as this is general and for some, broadly AU from the fic (aka: if you're reading Deliver Us, what you read there may not end up being canon, just a possibility).  
> Translations in the end notes when needed.

The life of a Jedi was driven by compassion. ‘To suffer with’. And not just an idle feeling – that was empathy – but a driven force, something that wouldn’t sit still and let injustice, violence and pain pass by. Empathy, without action, was nothing. A Jedi without compassion… wasn’t a Jedi. All Force-sensitives were, by nature, a measure of empaths. And yet, beings like the Sith existed.

To be a Jedi was to be compassionate. Runi understood that on a deep level: _buir_ was compassionate, caring and gentle. He and his brothers wouldn’t be here otherwise. Ani’vod was compassionate too, but in a wholly different way. He was compassionate in his flaming angers when faced with injustice, in his swift and sometimes unwise decisions to end them. He was fiercely compassionate, and Runi admired him for that.

And Runi was a Jedi, therefore he was compassionate.

No.

No, that was just the opposite of what he’d just thought about.

Runi was compassionate, and _that_ , more than anything, more, even, than his Force-sensitivity, was what made him a Jedi. To be able to keep on caring when faced, daily, with cruelty and injustice, with death and suffering. To care when all it did was hurt, and hurt, and hurt. To not let himself be defeated by unspeakable evils, but still find the strength to stand and say “no more”. To do more than simply caring, and kriffing _do_ something.

Compassion wasn’t always in the big gestures. It was, mainly, in the small ones. Helping up a youngling who had fallen over. Soothing the aching joints of an aging Master.

He blinked, his vision hazy, and realized it was because of the tears.

He was crying.

Compassion was, also, in keeping his _vod_ ’s hand in his, when there was nothing else to do and the life fled from him. Compassion was in sending him calm and peace as he stared death in the eye, in taking on some of his pain to grant him a measure of comfort. Compassion was in refusing to look away and hold on to the last moment. Even when it brought him pain. Even when the nightmares kept him from sleeping at night.

Compassion was, more often than not, in the small things. When all else had failed, it was what let you keep on hoping.

To be a Jedi was to have compassion. Runi had compassion. Runi was a Jedi.

Sometimes, he wished that was enough.


	2. 2 - Lightsabre - Tracyn (Deliver Us)

_The crystal is the heart of the lightsabre. The lightsabre is the life of a Jedi._  
_The crystal is the heart of the Jedi._

Tracyn, in a light meditation as he observed the floating elements of his lightsabre, reflected on what his weapon meant. He was skilled at lightsabre combat, trained in Djem-so by Anakin, and in Vapaad by Master Windu. Like all the other Initiates, he had found his crystal on Illum, when he had gone with his brothers to finally build his own lightsabre.

He remembered how the small crystal had called out to him in the Force, settling a shiver deep in his bones. His brothers and many other Jedi said kyber crystals sang in the Force – to him, it was less like singing and more like the sound stars made as they burned, high in the sky. It was the vibrations in the air when he stood too close to a departing aircraft. It was the drum-like beat of the songs that filled his blood. It was harmony and chaos all at once, all in perfect equilibrium, balanced at a fulcrum point.

He knew each part of his lightsabre intimately: the weapon he had so lovingly crafted, and that had saved his life more than once. More importantly, the weapon that had saved his brothers lives so many times. One by one, he re-fitted the parts until he could hold his complete lightsabre in his hand, and ignited it.  


The blade appeared, a deep, fire orange bronze that matched the fire in his soul, that matched the fire in his name. It fit his ever-growing hand perfectly, and followed his moves, guided by the Force, the blade humming in his bones. He didn’t need to hear it to know it sang as he swung it through the air, didn’t need to be told about the high-pitched whines when it met another in battle or in duel. He felt its song in his very body, even though he had never heard it.

The blade sizzled as it came close to his skin. It could burn, it could cut – and yes, it could kill. But just as well, it could protect. The lightsabre wasn’t his weapon – _he_ was the weapon, the Force’s weapon, who wielded him just as he wielded his lightsabre. If he followed the will of the Force, he was sure he could work in unison with it, just as well as his lightsabre was an extension of his body. Just as well as his crystal was his heart.

And looking at things like this, he understood a fundamental truth:

_There is no Death. There is the Force._


	3. Teaching/Learning : Anakin Skywalker & Sors Bandeam (Redemption)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Context of the Redemption AU: after his death, Anakin was sent back in his 18 years old body, with all his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sors Bandeam is the little boy who speaks in the Council Chamber in RoTS.

“I don’t understand, Master”, his Padawan said.

Anakin sighed. When he’d taken Ahsoka as his Padawan the first time, it hadn’t been his choice. The second time, it had been because he knew what she was capable of, and he knew what he could teach her. He was confident he could help make her a great Jedi. But both times, she had already been in her teens.

Sors, however… Sors, he’d chosen himself. The little boy’s face had haunted his nightmares for a long time – the little boy he’d once killed in cold blood, slaughtered with many other younglings. But when he’d seen him again, the youngling now the rough diamond of an Initiate, he’d known instantly that the boy was meant to be his Padawan. That he hadn’t felt it the first time only added to his guilt, but he was determined to make right by him.

He had Knighted Ahsoka when she’d turned twenty-one, the young girl now a splendid, skilful woman who was the Jedi she should _always_ have been, and after she’d left for her five-years, he hadn’t waited to ask eleven-years-old Sors to be his Padawan. At first, of course, the boy had been a bit scared, for Anakin had a reputation. But they truly were a match, and they had quickly formed a strong training bond.  
That didn’t mean Anakin knew how to handle a literal kid on a daily basis, but he was determined to teach him.

“The blade isn’t a tool to be used”, Anakin explained again. “That is the way of the Sith. Your lightsabre is your life, and not simply because it can save you. The kyber that called to you, the very crystal that is the heart of your lightsabre… You must become one with it when you fight. You and your lightsabre aren’t separate entities, merely an extension of each other. Is it clearer?”

Given the look of confusion on Sors’ face, no, it wasn’t. Anakin sat down cross-legged in the middle of the training hall, and Sors quickly imitated him. Anakin placed the ‘sabre in his open palms, and put his own hands under his to guide him.

“Close your eyes. Reach for your kyber, and attune yourself to it”, he said, voice soft and steady.

He didn’t need to ask Sors if he felt it, there had been a flare in the Force when his Padawan had called out to his crystal. He pulled back to let his Padawan work, but remained immerged in the Force, feeling the currents between them and making sure Sors wouldn’t dive too far. He was still too young to meditate alone, needing the guidance of a Master like Obi-Wan had guided Anakin.

There was a softness and calm to Sors that belied his quiet determination. He didn’t say much, but thought a lot, and followed the Force in a natural way that Anakin had no intention to curb. Sors, despite having only been Anakin’s Padawan for a mere five months, understood the slave’s way: never disobey a direct order, but work around it when needed. Always follow the Force, as was the Jedi way. Anakin knew his Padawan wouldn’t contradict him to his face, both out of respect, and because he knew Anakin could be stubborn. Sors simply… did things, and left his Master to deal with the fallout.

Ahsoka had never been like this, not before Anakin taught her at least, and Anakin had a renewed respect for his own poor Master. He understood now how deeply he must have aggravated him, making absolute messes and walking away like he hadn’t done a thing in the world. In a way, Sors was more like him than any other. In others, he was so completely different it left Anakin baffled.

“I think I get it, now, Master”, Sors said, opening his eyes.  
“Let’s try again, then”, Anakin said, standing up.

He let his hand brush against Sors’ hair and settled besides his Padawan, getting in position for the katas he was teaching him. He could feel, now, how Sors was attuned to his lightsabre – no longer a tool in his hand, a foreign weight and power, but an extension of his own body. Anakin had doubted he could be a Master and teach when he got Ahsoka, and then he’d discovered that he learnt from her just as much as she did from him.

Sors challenged him in completely novel ways, but mostly, his presence helped him keep his balance. It had been years since he felt the call of the Dark Side, but he was not foolish enough to think himself out of its grasp, even after Sidious’ death. The facts remained that he had spent twenty years and some as a Sith Lord, and it gave him a unique perspective on the nature of the Dark Side, and of the challenges it represented. It was both his greatest gift, and his greatest burden.

He knew that, because of it, and because of his status as the Chosen One, because he had slayed the Sith Master, because he had challenged the Order and pushed it to change in the ways it desperately needed, and because he hadn’t given up once, even when he’d failed, Yoda considered making him his replacement as Grandmaster, now that he had reached an advanced age.

He wondered about the wisdom of such a decision – even in his last life, he hadn’t really wanted to sit on the Council. But he had learned much and now sat there with Obi-Wan, guiding the Jedi into a new era, just like he guided his Padawan into a new life.

“Master”, Sors asked as they finished the kata and paused to drink. “How did you know you wanted to be a Jedi?”

Anakin paused.

“I have been many things, _ad’ika_. A slave, a husband, a father, a Sith Lord, a general. I learnt through trial and error. But in the end, what I wanted most was to follow the Force and help those in need. That is the nature of the Jedi. I can be many other things as well, but deep down, I am a Jedi, and I’ll always be.”  
In the Force, an echo of the past, of a future long lost, reached for him.

_I am a Jedi, like my father before me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _ad'ika_ : kid


	4. The Force : Haat (Deliver Us)

Haat didn’t remember a world without the Force. It had been there from the beginning, its thread binding him to his millions of brothers, and closer still to his batchmates. It had bound him to the man he owed his life to, and to the one he called _buir_. It connected him, to everyone and everything, to the very fabric of the universe.

He also knew he had a unique relationship with the semi-sentient energy. Only Anakin had a chance of ever matching it, and Anakin didn’t spend as much time contemplating the Force and its Will. The Jedi spoke of a Light Side, to which they were beholden, and of a Dark Side, which they abhorred, but there was so much more to it than simple Light and Darkness.

The Force… was. It spoke, through them, through the crystals they used in their lightsabres, and guided the Universe. To understand _where_ the Force was going was an impossible endeavour: it was simply too much for any kind of sentient’s mind.

It had its favourites, and it certainly had a sense of humour. It was, in many ways, like the ocean: calm at the surface, as long as the winds were soft, but dive deeper and the Light receded, giving way to Darkness and an intense pressure. Things lived there, in the abysses of the Force, feeding themselves on the Dark and never seeing the light of day. Down there were hatred, envy, anger, murder, pride. Down there was the downfall of humanity.

The surface of the water, though, was soft and warm, cradling you and letting you float and fling your spirit amongst the stars. But to think there was no danger there would be foolish: it was like putting your head underwater. If you didn’t come back up to breathe, you would drown – either losing your sense of self and joining the Force, or sinking to its bottom and losing yourself to the Darkness, to a kind of madness no one could save your from.

Rare were those who had swum in the deeps, and still managed to find their way back to the surface. Most had seen and done things that left them scarred forever. But there wasn’t a clear divide between Light and Dark, and a wealth of knowledge in between.

Haat knew the dangers of diving too deep, of reaching too far, but he still found himself, time and time again, wading through the semi-darkness when he’d let himself sink in the Force’s warm embrace. It was a playful friend, until it wasn’t.

The Force could tear apart and destroy, crush and abolish – but just the same it could heal and soothe, comfort and strengthen. The Force was Life and Death, Creation and Destruction. It was all things contained in itself.

The Force was.

Haat released his breath, and opened himself back to his bonds. Ani’vod, bright and strong like a supernova, so strong, in fact, that he could feel him even light-years away. Skira, trying to keep himself away from true Darkness, his rage fuelling him on the battlefield. Naak, focused on his duty as a Healer, saving lives times and times again. Runi, who was laying a trap with Tracyn, their brother distracting the droids by dancing circles around them, taunting them and then drawing away, sure of his skill. _Cabur_ , who thought of himself as their _buir_ and could not feel the Force-bond between them, the one he’d forged in his care for them and his attempt to save them.

And _buir_. Warm, home. A comfortable presence in his mind, as far as he could remember. _Buir_ , who let his love for them trickle down their bonds, just so he wouldn’t flood them with it like he did sometimes. _Buir_ , who was strong in the Force, because he had faith.

Haat opened his eyes and winced at the brightness of the light. He blinked and adjusted, holding back a sigh as he came back to his senses. The real world felt… too much. There was too much of everything, and the Force was his comfort.

Haat knew he had to be careful.

After all, the Force had never promised not to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _buir_ : here, father.  
>  _cabur_ : guardian.


	5. Restraint/Discipline : Skira (Deliver Us)

Skira struggled to keep himself from lashing out. He had always struggled with the Jedi ideals of restraint, but the war had all made it worse. He didn’t have to hold back when faced with droids but sentient adversaries were something else altogether.

Slavers really, really made it difficult. He wondered how Ani’vod could take it, he who had been a slave. He snarled when a Zyggerrian appreciatively touched the long, complicated braid of his hair, his Padawan braid tucked in the middle of others and easily mistaken for a simple ornament instead of the distinctive sign it was.

The misery he could feel made him want to react, to tear the slavers to pieces, but there was the calm presence of Runi in the back of his mind, reminding him of everything they’d learn, of what being a Jedi entailed. He took in a breath, held it, and slowly let it out. He had _buir_ not too far, hidden under his Zyggerian armour, along with Rex.

The attention still made his skin crawl as he walked in the garb of a slave, his ‘sabres nowhere he could reach, the Force tingling with warning. He tried to keep his charade up, to move his eyes even though he had no need for them, well aware of everything going on around him. He was angry – he was almost always angry, sometimes, he thought he was born angry – and it was not the Jedi way. _Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to the Dark Side._

For a few hours, he thought that maybe, maybe they could make it. And then, _buir_ was exposed, as were Ani’vod and Rex, meaning _he_ was exposed too. He fought his way out, to no use, and cried out when he found himself slammed to his knees.

_“No! No, don’t do that!”_

Ani’vod, bristling with fear and anger, feeding into his own, and Skira wondered what had scared him so. A Zyggerian soldier stepped close, holding a collar, and strapped it around his neck.

Everything went dark, and he _screamed_.

“Skira, Skira listen to me, everything will be alright, do you hear me?” Anakin said, his voice firm despite the anxiousness filtering in it.

He could no longer feel the bonds he had with his brothers and his _buir_. Could no longer feel the milling crowd, could no longer make out the place he was in, the obstacles in his path. There was nothing but darkness to see, the Force unattainable and leaving him seriously impaired.

*

He had no idea how long they held him, how long he’d been in the Force-suppressive collar, when feelings started to trickle back in. He knew he was outside already, could feel the sun baking his skin, the air on his skin and the uncomfortable feel of metal bars all around him – caged like an animal. He had tried to settle, after he’d exhausted himself crying and panicking, scrabbling painfully at the collar, and fallen asleep, most likely.

He was first aware of the fact that there was nothing under him. Nothing but a very long drop to the ground. His cage was suspended above a cleft, and they probably had meant to scare him some more, but how was he to be afraid of height when he had no idea he wasn’t even touching the ground?

He licked his lips, dried and cracked, tasting blood, and focused. He could feel the Force still, in a very thin rivulet. It took some prodding, but he finally found the very thin, spidery crack in his collar. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to slightly weaken the suppression and let him touch the Force.

It was enough for the Dark Side to start whispering.

_With my power, you could break free of these chains._

_With my power, you could go down and free your family._

_With my power, you could free all the slaves from this planet._

_With my power, you could destroy the slavers, slaughter them all and let the galaxy know what happens when you are crossed._

_It’s nothing, darling boy._

_Just reach out with your anger. Push and prod at your chains, and I will make you free._

He could feel it, the power, just outside his reach, if he would only extend his hand and take it. He could be so much better with it. He could prevent his brothers from dying. He could win battles, inverse the tides of war. He could defeat the Sith, with such a power. There was nothing stopping him. It was only a matter of will.

_Look. Look. What you could do._

Flashes passed in his mind, showing him ravaged battlefields and submitted worlds, showing him a galaxy finally at peace, the Sith threat finally crushed under his boot. His breath caught.

If he only reached out…

“ _The Dark Side is like a hungry beast_ ”, Master Fisto’s voice said in his head. “ _You could give it your all, feed it until there is nothing left, and still it would be hungry. It is something that cannot be sated. You will always want more. More power. And it will never be enough. It will speak to you as though it is an ally, ensnare you, and take everything from you._ ”

Skira took a breath, reaching for peace. He had no need for more power: no matter how powerful, the Sith could be vanquished. The voice snarled and thrashed.

_You will have nothing left, NOTHING!_

I will have the Force, Skira answered. He took a breath.

There is not emotion, there is peace – he let the breath out, letting go of the tight snare of fear coiled in his heart.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge – he took another breath in, parsing through everything he knew to get himself out of here.

There is no passion, there is serenity – let out the breath, let go of the hurt and the anger, like one divests an old cloak.

There is no Chaos, there is harmony – another breath in, and he thought of his brothers, of the bonds he relied on, how they could be in complete harmony if they tried to.

There is no death, there is the Force – he expired, and pushed at the crack, testing where it held, where it gave.

The crack widened and the Dark Side wailed, the collar breaking open and letting the light in again.

If Ani’vod could keep himself from killing the slavers when it was such a painful wound for him, surely he could do the same. Restraint. Reign in your power.

It would be known, if the path of the Jedi was a simple one.


	6. Meditation/Mindfulness: Jedi!Finn & Plo Koon (Switched Fates)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Switched Fates is an AU I have planned but not written yet, involving post-TRoS Finn and Rey accidentally travelling through time, and Finn becoming Plo Koon's Padawan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is one of my faves.

Finn found it difficult to focus the way Master Plo wanted him to. It was completely different from the focus he’d needed to learn how to fight with the First Order, and the Force had been, so far, an elusive presence. He breathed in deeply, trying not to squirm on his meditation cushion, and felt a wave of amusement from the Jedi Master sitting with him, his open hands laid palms up in Master Plo’s claw-tipped ones.

His connection to the Force was elusive at best, and he didn’t count how many times his Master had repeated “that’s not how the Force works” with a deep chuckle. Sometimes, it felt like the whole universe was rushing at him, slamming into his mind and drowning him in consciousness, raw power at his fingertips and ready to burst out of him. Others, he really doubted he had any kind of Force-sensitivity, despite what his Master said, and what he knew.

“It is not a combat, Finn”, Plo said, his laughter filtering in his voice. “You approach meditation like it’s a fight to be won, but it’s not. Force, sometimes I wonder if you are not one of Wolffe’s brothers, for all that you act like them.”

Finn squirmed and grimaced at the backhanded compliment: it was an honour to be like the clones, and he was proud to serve at their side, but when it came to Jedi matters, it wasn’t exactly one.

“But you said to be careful, that the Force was dangerous”, he replied, fighting the urge to open his eyes.  
“It is not some wild beast to be tamed and waiting to devour you”, his Master replied. “Think of it as… walking into the ocean. You start by dipping your toes in, which you’ve been doing for a while. But if you want to go farther, you need to learn how to swim, and you need someone to teach you how to swim. Even then, you still risk drowning. The ocean is powerful, and you have to respect that. And sometimes, people stop swimming and let themselves sink.”  
“The Dark Side”, Finn replied. “Teach me how to swim, then, Master.”  
“Relax”, Plo said. “Breathe slowly, deeply. Feel how the Force connects us, connects everything in the cosmos together. We are part of this weave, just another thread amongst others.”

Finn tried to see it. He imagined his own Force-thread a brilliant gold, tightly entwined with his Master’s green one. Rey’s was a dark red, thrumming with power and braided with his and Poe’s – flaming orange. He reached out, where his thread of gold entwined with Wolffe’s, a dark grey flecked with white. Slowly, threads were added, more or less entwined with his: Jango Fett, looped and knotted tightly around Rey’s, a dark blue trying to flare and protect the still infinitely more powerful thread of his friend. The clones, all a different colour, all a different shade. The Jedi, vibrating with power and peace, sending a high note into the Force and weaving not only a tapestry, but a melody. He took another step back, trying to see what was the complete image, what kind of creation all these threads made together, but he couldn’t see everything.

His Master’s thread let out a louder note, and he reached out for him, hearing the words like a thought in his head – not a voice but its meaning still very clear: _come back_. He reached for his own thread, cupping his life, his power in ethereal hands, and opened his eyes.

Only then did he realize there were tears on his cheeks, his heart and head filled with wonder and a deep sense of peace and harmony, like he had never felt before. He couldn’t see it exactly, but he knew his Master was smiling, his hands gently squeezing his.

“Wonderful, isn’t it?”  
“I-” His voice caught in his throat. “How do you even manage to come back? I could stay there for _hours_ , watching the threads of the universe as they’re weaved into the Force.”  
“Training, my young Padawan”, Plo replied, laughing.

Finn smiled. Meditation wasn’t so bad, after all.


	7. Connection/Symbiosis : Naak (Deliver Us)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vod'ike have a special bond.

Naak wasn’t the best duellist out of all his brothers, but he wasn’t afraid, even as they faced Count Dooku. He didn’t have any illusions regarding his chances of winning, or even of surviving, if he were to fight him on his own. He was, after all, still a very young Padawan.

But he wasn’t alone. Skira and Tracyn were with him, and out of all of them, Tracyn was the best. And they had something others didn’t have: a connection so strong that some Masters had called it a symbiosis. Through their connection and the Force, he could be Tracyn’s ears and Skira’s eyes, and together, they had a chance – not of winning, but of surviving long enough for reinforcement to come.

He lowered his shields on his bonds with his brothers, and slowly melted into their thoughts, three beings becoming one. He left Tracyn’s focus become his own, their moves synchronizing in such a way only _buir_ and Ani’vod could match it – or the Vode, when they did a demonstration. His lightsabre in hand, he settled in the makashi opening stance, his grandmaster quirking an eyebrow at the sight.

“Makashi, young padawan? A bold choice, especially as you face me.”  
“It is not boldness, Count Dooku”, Naak replied. “It is faith.”

At his sides, his brothers readied themselves, Skira’s twin lightsabres lighting with a snap-hiss that made him grin. Tracyn’s was already lit, the bronze of the blade clashing against the red of Dooku’s. He moved slightly, getting ready to attack with his favoured Djem-so. The flow of thoughts and feelings was seamless between them, and Naak knew no longer where he ended and where his brothers started.

“Clones with lightsabres”, the Count sneered. “Such a heresy.”  
“Are you scared that you might lose, Count?” Naak taunted, his brothers agreeing wholeheartedly.

His mouth spoke, but he lent his voice to the entity they were, with a single-minded focus: survive.

Dooku snorted.

“Lose? To three half-trained Padawans, who haven’t even lived ten years yet? You have Skywalker’s foolishness, indeed.”  
“You forget, Count, that we learn fast”, Skira answered. “That we were engineered to be strong, and to be fast. To be soldiers, more than to be Jedi.”  
“And you forget”, Tracyn added, his voice rough with disuse – he rarely spoke, only making the attempt when they were connected like this and his brothers knew how to sound the words with his tongue and lips, “that the Force is with us.”

There was no outward sign; they attacked all at once, slashing, stabbing, jabbing and avoiding each other with perfect synchronicity. Moving as one body, even though they counted for four blades between them, four different styles, and a grand total of twenty-one years of experience. The Count parried, avoiding their blades, his skill showing in the way he danced around them, barely moving.

Naak peeled his lips back, showing his pointed Togruta teeth, and snarled. Count Dooku was the Master of Makashi, one of the best duellist the Order had known, and their grandmaster – and yet, here he was, trying to kill them when he should have been teaching what he knew to them.

It was easy to lose himself to the rhythm, to the rise and fall of their moves, to his brothers’ thoughts, becoming one and actually keeping Count Dooku in check. He could feel a surge of surprise from the Count, who hadn’t expected this much resistance, nor this efficiency, and who was apparently flabbergasted at their unity.

“Your synchronicity is commendable”, he finally said. “In time, you could become truly fearsome warriors. At least, my grand-padawan won’t have lost his time on you.”  
“We already _are_ fearsome warriors, Dooku”, Skira replied. “And we are stronger than you. Maybe not in sabre-play yet, but in the Force.”

They leapt back as one, just as Ani’vod and _buir_ arrived to take their place.

“Go”, _buir_ said.

Naak slipped out of his brothers’ thoughts and started to put up his shields again on his bonds with them. Slowly, as they ran out of the ship to re-join their troopers, he left their connection, becoming his own person once more. It was both a relief and a trial – he was never more whole than when he was one with them, but he couldn’t truly be himself then.

Naak was thankful for one thing, though: that they even had this possibility.


	8. Letting Go : Anakin (Redemption)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is set in my Redemption AU. Basically, after his death as Darth Vader, Anakin was sent back to his younger body, one year before the war. This takes places years later.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Major Character Death.
> 
> Mando'a Translation:
> 
> _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la_ : not gone, merely marching far away.

_How have you learnt to let go?_

The question haunts him. _How have you learnt to let go, you who Fell because of your Attachments?_

“I haven’t”, he whispers in the dead of the night, a knot in his throat.

_How have you learnt to let go?_

“By losing everything I tried to hold on to”, he whispers again, the bed too empty around him.

His mother. Ahsoka. Padmé. His troopers.

Obi-Wan.

They are etched in his blood, and it is not letting go – it is having them ripped out of him. It’s sacrificing a parcel of his soul to peace. Letting go sounds… easy. Like he simply has to open his fingers and let them float away.

But he knows something, now, that he didn’t know before: holding on is infinitely more painful than letting go. For him, for the ones he held on to, and for those around. Letting go isn’t as passive as he’d been led to believe. It is a choice, every day.

Letting go isn’t forgetting, there was no way he could ever forget. Letting go is choosing not to keep the pain inside, but to cry it out. Letting go is a violent act, wrestling his heart into submission, his instinct back in its cage.

Letting go is _there is no death, there is the Force._

Letting go is an act of faith renewed each day.

_How have you learnt to let go?_

It is not so much letting go, than accepting to say goodbye for now.

He gets up, unable to sleep. Paces his room for a moment, and checks through his bond on his young Padawan sleeping peacefully two doors away. Slips on his robes, and goes in search of wisdom.

He finds it in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, staring up at the night sky.

“Sleeping, you should be. Late, it is.”  
“It is”, he agrees, and sits down next to the ancient Master, who grows weaker every day.

It is a loss he never had to face before. Last time. It is a loss that hadn’t been so hard, when he hated Master Yoda. But things are different, now, and for the better.

“How have you learnt to let go?” he asks, blinking back tears, because it feels like they’re all around him.

Yoda’s ears droop, and he blinks.

“Like you, young Skywalker. I didn’t.”  
“I’m not so young anymore”, Anakin grumbles, tightening his robes around himself. “But you… You’ve lived for so long. Your Padawans and grand-Padawans have died of old age before you.”  
“The curse of a long life, it is”, Master Yoda replies with a nod. “Always young your species are, to me.” He blinks, and grunts lightly. “Like picking a scab, holding on is. Hurt, it does. Harm yourself, it does. Prevent healing, it does. Invite infection, it does. Letting it heal and scar, letting go is. Also hurt, it does, but less. Scars hurt, but not always.”  
“Sometimes, I still wonder if I did the right thing”, Anakin whispers. “Taking Luke and Leia from the galaxy.”  
“Save many lives, you did. Choose differently, would they have?”  
“No”, Anakin says, smiling. “No, they wouldn’t.”  
“Miss friends, I do too. Happy to see them again, I will be. Only by letting go, can I see them again.”  
“ _Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la_ ”, Anakin whispers.

Yoda smacks his walking stick on his shins, and Anakin grins.

“Stop that, you will. Speak in a language I understand, you will. Respect for your elders, you must have.”

He feels Yoda’s cheerfulness in the Force, peace wrapping around them both.

“I will miss your wisdom, Master Yoda. I still doubt the place you gave me.”  
“More experience than most Jedi, you have. Come back from the Dark Side, you have. Fought the Sith, you have. Toppled traditions when in need of change, you have. Why wrong would I be, to appoint you as my successor?” He harrumphs. “Besides, not gone, I will be. Into the Force, you will find me.” He chuckles. “March far away, I will. Yes, yes. A long, nice walk, I need.”  
“You will have to leave your walking stick behind”, Anakin warns, eyebrows scrunched playfully.  
“Letting go of that, difficult it will be. To smack young idiots, I need it.”

Anakin chuckles, and holds out his hand, as the Master’s presence goes weaker and weaker. Yoda places his claws in his palm, and closes his eyes.

“Smack them for me, you will”, he declares. “Trust you, I do. And love you, I do. Let go of me, you will.”  
“I will”, Anakin promises.

A breath, a tingle in the Force, and Master Yoda disappears, vanishing into the Force. It is as though a star blinked out – and then, Anakin feels it again. As though it is far away, and he doubts anyone else will be able to feel him yet. But he’s here, in the Force.

“I love you too.”

_Master Skywalker, how have you learnt to let go?_

“Well, Padawan”, Anakin replies. “Sometimes, when you love people, you have to let them go. It is an act of love, and an act of faith.”

The faith that I will see you again. All of you.

_There is no Death, there is the Force._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the last prompt! This ficlet is one of my faves for this challenge.

**Author's Note:**

>  _buir_ : parent (here, father).  
>  _vod_ : sibling (here, brother).


End file.
